


razor xo

by mcgardens



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mutsu-centric, Not Shippy, ish, mentions of abuse, mostly just a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgardens/pseuds/mcgardens
Summary: sakamoto tatsuma's always capable right hand.





	razor xo

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't proofread its one am im so sorry class.

The title was fitting, she supposed. Diamond Princess, a heart of cold stone and a title none could match. A title that should’ve commanded respect, but really, did it call for more than fear? Was it really more than a harbinger of an uncomfortable ache?

 

The first time Mutsu felt a pain she could recall long after was when she was three. Yato, rabbits of the night that they were, were used to fighting among family. She thought it was normal when her father slapped her for speaking out of term, that her mother would rush to her side to tend to her bleeding lip.

 

Sometimes, even 20 years later, she could feel the stinging pain on her cheek.

 

It really only got worse after that first time. Occasionally it would be her mother, but most of the time, her father’s release of anger fell to her. The older yato woman never intervened, but always brushed away the few tears she had, and kissed the scrapes, bruises, and whatever else better. Mutsu liked her. 

 

At four, Mutsu stopped seeing her mother. She didn’t return home one night, and all Mutsu’s questions were deflected. She learned to stop crying, and fixed up her wounds by herself.

 

At five, Mutsu tried to leave. She packed her small bookbag with what little notebooks and toys she could fit, and jumped for the handle. She didn’t know how long she was gone, but she was cold and had hoped mommy came home.

 

When her father saw her the morning of her return, the pain was back. Nobody treated her wounds.

 

Eventually, he decided it was time to start preparing her to take over as captain of one of his ships. “The family trade,” he told her, pride in his voice. 

 

The first time Mutsu boarded one of the Chidori’s ships, she was 6 years old. She saw the slaves behind bars, and something in her ached.

 

“It’s wrong.”

 

“What’s that?” the gruff voice of her father made her flinch.

 

“Shouldn’t we set them free?”

 

He threw her in with them for her insolence, for daring to insist they were anything more than dogs to sell for money.

 

She stayed there for a week, with the glaring faces who knew who she was, and what she was destined to become.

Mutsu didn’t speak up again.

 

Begrudgingly, she followed her father’s commands. She prepared herself for a position as commander of a Chidori Fleet ship, to sell people like they were simply toys for her to collect and be rid of.

 

He began to speak of her with pride, but it didn’t stop the pain he inflicted upon her “for her own good. To teach her how to lead,” is what he said. 

 

When she was 13, Mutsu attended an event without her father for the first time. An event showcasing  _ her _ slaves for sale. The slaves that she owned, because it was her Chidori Fleet Ship. She didn’t miss the leering eyes the old men made, not only at her slaves but at her. Being 13 didn’t stop her from punching them in the balls for  _ their _ insolence.

 

When she was 14, Mutsu met Sakamoto Tatsuma.

 

Her father died, she didn’t know how to feel, and here was this foolish man acting like he had any say in what happened to him. He was barely a few years older than her, and Mutsu almost felt some sort of pity.

 

She didn’t know why she tried to help, but she did, and before she knew it, Mutsu, age 14, was Vice Captain of the Kaientai. Subordinating to a moron barely older than her who didn’t know his left from his right.

 

At 15, Mutsu asked to leave the Kaientai.

 

She and Sakamoto always fought, and she could feel the rest of the crew ( _ the former slaves, _ her brain taunted,) tiptoeing around her. Mutsu didn’t think the mopheaded man could get that angry.

 

He convinced her to stay, eventually. She tried to apologise, but he wouldn’t hear it. That night, Mutsu found her now-trademark hat sitting in her quarters. She thinks it was a gift, but in 9 years hasn’t asked.

 

At 17, Mutsu began calling him Tatsuma. At 17, Sakamoto Tatsuma trusted her enough to act on whatever strange whims he had, leaving the fleet, the Kairinmaru, in her care. 

 

She beat him half to death after the first time. He never stopped. She wouldn’t say it, but his faith, his trust in her, made her warm.

 

At 18, Mutsu stopped wearing the blood red and void black colors of the Yato. She began to don the starlight blues and iridescent purples of the skies themselves. She kept the scarf though. She doesn’t know why.

At 24,  she was still pretty much running the Kaientai.

 

Mutsu still didn’t know how to be a people person, she couldn’t talk circles around their clients. That was still Sakamoto’s job. She probably wouldn’t hit his level of people skills in her lifetime. She didn’t really mind. 

 

Tatsuma had given her a home with the Kaientai, a family of sorts. Disjointed, scruffy, loud, and pretty annoying most times, but she was grateful nonetheless. Maybe she’d show her gratitude one day. Probably not soon. After all, they still had a couple forevers left, another lifetime of flights left, didn’t they?

 

Well, razor tongued lieutenant was a lot better than Diamond Princess, she supposed.


End file.
